#1
the type-right/er…

the animals are gawking
in primal tongues;
they speak as leaves to the sun
(whispering words unclear to anyone
to their own ful-filament
as the rusting tin can waters them down)
and bask in a spotlight
that has never been their own-
it is clear as day/
the dead languages have been laid to rest.
but they have been courting
in romantic periods
jesting amongst themselves
which could be king.dom
as the elephants in the room
let their awful trumpets blare
and wake the neighbours.
the hyenas guffaw at themselves
I tire of they
resting on their laurels,
reading our minds-
the lions may keep their pride
and the crows their parliament;
(their position far too high above the standard
broken line, on the sidelines
to ever touch base from atop their shaved trunks of power
and touch upon anything current)
there was a divide, a line drawn in the sand at one time
(for those washed up & whittling beachwood)
where the eternal ebert & ropert grew green thumbs
and planted themselves in dust thrones
the upright citizens were born,
while the rest of us decipher the shadows of our hands
in plato’s cave;
years from now, as our dying breed
becomes their own text & bookings
our mating calls recorded, our prints cemented and sealed
our height measured up
those naturally selected to make the final cut
will have stood up
for there are those who have been given the tools
yet know not what they are for,
as darwin ponders...

a thousand monkeys/athousandmonkeys/aTHOUSANDmonKeys/a thousandmonkeys/ a thousand monkeys/athousandmonkeysathousandmonkeysathousandmonkeysat housandmonkeysathousandmonkeysathousandmonkeys
Last edited by Sticky Tissues at Aug 20, 2010,